


Summer

by Sp00py



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Incest, Other, Smoking, Teasing, casual incest, sex pollen trope, the mystery of snufkin’s genitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:22:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sp00py/pseuds/Sp00py
Summary: The Joxter comes to visit Snufkin, and introduces him to a curious little plant.





	Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Set some years after Spring, though it’s not necessary to have read that one to understand this one. HellenARTworkS came up with the name for the plant.

"You've changed," the Joxter announced. Those were his first words to Snufkin, who sat under a tree playing a hurdy gurdy alongside a Creep on violin. The Creep jumped and vanished at the Joxter’s sudden appearance, leaving his violin behind. The Joxter took his place on the rock beside Snufkin and picked it up. A little small, but playable.  The Joxter didn't know how to play, though, so didn't.   
  
Snufkin let his song die out with a musical groan. "So have you."   
  
The Joxter laughed. "Only grown greyer," he said. "We Joxters don't like change much. You, though..." He trailed off, pale eyes dragging light as a feather up Snufkin's body. It has been years since last they saw each other, and Snufkin wore a heavier coat, a different scarf, longer pants. He looked more like the Joxter now than a Mymble, markings on his cheeks and nose darker than when they last met.   
  
Snufkin blushed and wouldn't make eye contact. Despite his looks, he  _ was _ still a Snufkin.   
  
"How's mother?"   
  
"Nesting. Her littlest ones aren't so little anymore. She asked for Mymble to come home."   
  
"Should I... " Snufkin began, pulling nervously on his hat.   
  
"You don't need to visit, unless you would like to."   
  
Snufkin visible relaxed at that. He had never quite acclimated to having a family. Much as he liked his sisters and mother, he didn't know what to do with them. Snufkins were solitary creatures, and Mymbles were very much not. Joxters -- Joxters he wasn't sure about. They did what they pleased.   
  
"I've been thinking of you," the Joxter said.   
  
"Are you, uh, nesting as well?"   
  
The question caught the Joxter off guard, and, after a thought, he laughed. "I imagine so. But not in the same way as your mother. I want to  _ move around _ ."   
  
"How odd."   
  
"Isn't it? The last time I wanted to move around I found a lovely round Mymble, but all I can think of as of late has been you."   
  
Snufkin risked a glance, his lips twitched up, either a smile or a question. The Joxter didn’t wait for him to decide which.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Dance?”

“I do enjoy dancing. Where’d that little Creep disappear to?”

“Teety-woo,” Snufkin offered distractedly. He was caught up in the idea of dancing, a little afraid as it’d been so long since he’d felt the urge to.

“Teety-woo,” the Joxter cooed to the underbrush. “Won’t you come out and play us a song?”

“I never agreed to —“

“Oh do shush, dear. Look, here he is. Hello, Teety-woo.” The Joxter removed himself from the rock and let the Creep crawl shyly back into its spot and reclaim its bow and instrument.

“If I may?” Teety-woo asked hesitantly, gaze almost on Snufkin but just barely not making it.

“Do what you’d like.”

“And we shall do as we like,” the Joxter added, pulling Snufkin up and removing the strap of the hurdy-gurdy from around his shoulder. He set it aside and grabbed Snufkin before he could leave. Teety-woo started up a tune as small as he was, as the Joxter drew Snufkin in close.

“Isn’t this nice?” He muttered against Snufkin’s ear, swaying more than dancing.

Snufkin brought his arms up and let them settle somewhere on the Joxter’s back. After a moment, he rested his head on his shoulder. He’d felt very wound up as of late, with summer creeping along and everyone feeling too close, too needy. The Joxter smelled oddly nice.“I suppose.”

They continued their not-dance until Teety-woo announced that he had to go home (his home, he said very proudly and very specifically). He thanked Snufkin and the Joxter for their attention, then disappeared quick as a flash.

“He likes you quite a lot,” the Joxter said, still swaying.

“I know. It’s dreadful.”

The Joxter laughed and pressed a kiss to Snufkin’s temple. “It’s understandable.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, dancing now to the sounds of the wind and leaves.

“Would you like to have some fun?” the Joxter asked. Snufkin shrugged. The Joxter nuzzled his face, earning an irritated huff at the affection. “I found something to make it fun for you too.”

That caught Snufkin’s attention, who since their last encounter had had exactly one other experience with sex. It had been nice, because it had been Moomin, but it hadn’t been anything worth repeating.

“Has What sort of thing could do that?”

“Flowers, dear. Have you ever heard of Muumint?”

Snufkin shook his head.

“The oil in their leaves is quite delightful. I saw some on my way here, and thought immediately of you.”

“Do you like me just for sex?”

The question brought pause to the Joxter’s swaying, and, after a moment, he laughed. “I like you because you’re you. And I like you because you’re forbidden. I shouldn’t want you, so I do.”

Snufkin knew intellectually what they did wasn’t allowed by society, but he barely knew the Joxter as a person, much less as a father, so the emotional thrill came solely from the outside. “Did you know me when I was little?”

“I did. You were the sweetest little Snufkin. You disliked everyone, refused to play with your siblings, and would regularly run away to the forest.” The Joxter stroked Snufkin’s cheek, eyes distant. “You liked me, though. Which is how I lost you, incidentally.”

“ _ You _ lost me?”

The Joxter took a step back, fingers trailing down to Snufkin’s paws. “I’ll tell you on the way. Come along, dear Snufkin.”

They left behind the hurdy gurdy and the valley, and climbed higher into the mountains. On the way, the Joxter told of how he lost Snufkin, a story which involved apples, baskets, a very inattentive father, and little else worth mentioning here. The Joxter made it sound more exciting than it truly was, so Snufkin wasn’t entirely sure he was telling the truth. It ultimately didn’t matter, he supposed. He still didn’t really know the the Joxter, and had no memory of the things the Joxter recalled.

The Joxter led him far away from people, occasionally stopping to scent the air for something Snufkin didn’t recognize, then alter course just slightly. The nice scent Snufkin had noticed on the Joxter grew stronger, and when Snufkin connected his touching to the scent to the Muumint, they were already on them.

Small purple flowers like stars littered the field, which was overgrown with the vines of the Muumint, purple and dark, dark green on top, silvery soft on the underside.  He could see the plants had a Joxter-shaped patch pressed down in them.

“And how long exactly were you here for?”

“Oh, several days. It’s a very nice field. I dried some out for you.” With little in the way of aplomb, the Joxter handed over his bag of tobacco. Snufkin opened it and sniffed curiously. Mixed in with the Joxter’s usual heavy stuff was that more floral scent. It made his nose itch.

“It tastes dreadful, I’m afraid, but is very potent when smoked. Or rubbed on. Or rolled around in…” the Joxter’s voice trailed off, a distant smile on his face as he thought of rolling Snufkin around in the plants.

Snufkin contemplated the field, then the bag, then carefully stepped his way to where the Joxter had slept and settled down. The Joxter joined him, match and pipe ready.

Snufkin prepared the pipe and held it to his lips as the Joxter dipped the match in. After several puffs to get it lit, he closed his eyes and focused on the flavor. It was, as promised, terrible, but the Joxter’s tobacco made it palatable. Snufkin didn’t feel very different, and after a moment passed the pipe to the Joxter.

The Joxter took deeper, more familiar drags, let the smoke curl between. He inched a little closer to Snufkin when he passed the pipe back. “Hold it in, dear,” he purred, hand pressed to Snufkin’s sternum.

Snufkin swallowed, feeling a little warm, then took another puff. He held it as instructed, passed the pipe.

The Joxter got closer, lips almost on Snufkin’s. “And exhale,” the Joxter said quietly, letting smoke drip from his own mouth to brush teasingly against Snufkin’s lips. Snufkin let out a shaky breath.

“Close your eyes.”

Snufkin did so. The scent of the flowers grew stronger, fresh from a broken stem. Suddenly, and he flinched when it happened, a leaf brushed across his mouth. It trailed up his cheek, to his temple, then across his eyelids. It made him tremble in strange ways.

“P-Pappa?”

“Yes, dear?”

“It’s nothing,” Snufkin said, reconsidering. He didn’t want to share his thoughts, which were mostly focused around a curious sort of anticipation. When last they’d been together, Snufkin had simply rolled with the Joxter’s actions, teased him a little for fun, but ultimately gotten nothing out of it except for an experience he kept to himself. Now, the Joxter was changing things. He wanted Snufkin to want it, whatever  _ it  _ was.

The Joxter left Snufkin to his thoughts, dragging the leaf with its potent oil across his cheeks and throat, making him shiver though it wasn’t the least bit cold out. If anything, he was too warm now. He let the Joxter push him back into the Muumint and let out a shuddery, smoky breath when he felt him settle between his thighs.

Snufkin opened his eyes. The Joxter’s eyes, normally pinprick pupils in a sea of ice, were blown wide and dark, and he had a flush to his face that deepened the color of his markings. His whiskers were trembling in excitement.

“You look lovely,” the Joxter murmured, paws creeping up Snufkin’s shins, under the legs of his pants. He began to undo Snufkin’s boots, and soon had one discarded so he could study his black paw. Snufkin stared at the sky above, focused on trying to make his breathing regular as he felt curious fingers trail along the pink pads, follow the black socks up to where they faded into flesh tones.

He wanted  _ something _ . It made him ache in places he’d never much considered before, and he was sure the Joxter could deliver. He’d gotten Snufkin like this in the first place.

“Pappa,” Snufkin whined as the Joxter took off his other boot and performed the same teasing gestures.

“Yes, dear?” the Joxter asked, question colored in sultry humor this time.

Snufkin squirmed in the plants, crushing more and releasing more of their scent. “I don’t know,” he admitted, finally. “I want you to do  _ something _ .”

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes!” Snufkin gasped with a relieved sigh, then tried again. “I mean — I think.”

“You suppose?” The Joxter asked, mimicking Snufkin’s earlier apathy. “I don’t think I should continue until you’re sure.” As he spoke, he reached up to undo Snufkin’s pants, regardless, and Snufkin lifted his hips to let the Joxter pull them off entirely, leaving him exposed from the coat down. Snufkin’s hands tangled in the fabric of his coat and pushed down modestly. He’d never been embarrassed before, and wasn’t really now, but he was something akin to it. Suddenly  _ aware _ of himself.

Snufkin bit his tongue on more begging, recognizing the game. The Joxter was teasing him, and, if what he said was true, then Snufkin could just as easily tease him too. With more self-control than he expected of himself, he pressed his foot paw against the Joxter’s chest and gently pushed him away.

“It might take some time for me to be sure,” he said, and was very proud when his voice didn’t falter and reveal how sure he really was.

“Of course, wouldn’t want to rush.” The Joxter took his paw and began kissing along his shin, whiskers scratchy. “Wouldn’t want to do anything thoughtless.”

Snufkin’s other foot paw braced lightly against the Joxter’s groin, as though to keep him at a distance. The Joxter was hard under his layers. “Exactly,” Snufkin breathed.

They remained like that for several moments longer, Snufkin’s shaky breathing and the Joxter’s breathy purrs the only sounds in the clearing. The Joxter was gladly grinding against Snufkin’s paw, fingers and lips and teeth massaging his other leg.

Snufkin felt a wetness between his legs, similar to when the Joxter had put his mouth on him before, or when Moomin had slipped inside, but dissimilarly, he’d had no stimulation to warrant it this time. The Joxter wasn’t even close to his groin right now. It was curious and uncomfortable, but he wasn’t going to give in.

The Joxter pawed at the edge of his coat, looking to go higher. Snufkin curled his toes.

“I would very much like to fuck you, dear,” the Joxter groaned.

Snufkin’s paws twisted in his coat. He’d like that too, but found himself a little afraid of enjoying it for reasons other than taboo. He knew who he was, and what he liked in life, and this had been nowhere in sight until now. Snufkin pulled away, like a snail into its shell. “I know, Pappa.”

The Joxter crawled over and put his hands on Snufkin’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I just —“ Snufkin cut himself off. He didn’t know how to explain his hesitation, so didn’t.

The Joxter rubbed his arms, kissed his cheek and jaw. Snufkin liked that, he decided. He  _ wanted  _ the Joxter to bed him, he knew that, but at the same time he couldn’t quite bring himself to acknowledge it. He wanted release.

The Joxter began to work his way down Snufkin’s throat. Paws massaged at his thighs, inched the coat up higher now that Snufkin wasn’t holding it in place.

This felt good. It felt nice. Snufkin had to keep reminding himself that this was what the plants were supposed to do, but it was an alien sensation. He didn’t know if he wanted to open his legs wider or shut them tight to alleviate some of the tension. He settled on doing neither.

The Joxter continued to rub his thighs, enjoying the expressions he doubted Snufkin knew were flitting over his face, the tiny movements of his muscles that gave away what he was feeling. The Joxter ached at the idea of being buried inside his son, making him moan — he was quite sure that Snufkin, if he’d ever let himself go, would be the most lovely little creature, writhing on the forest floor, begging his pappa for more.

His fingers risked brushing Snufkin’s inner thighs, and Snufkin jumped, but did nothing to suggest he should stop. With half-lidded eyes, the Joxter crept a little higher, to the soft flesh where thigh met groin. Snufkin’s breath came rapidly, jagged little puffs that the Joxter used to gauge where he best liked being touched.

Right at the joint got a relieved sigh, toward his rear got less of a response. Gentle pinching all down his thigh made a lovely staccato noise.

He continued his exploration until Snufkin was gulping down air and glistening between his legs. “Pappa,” he whined, dragging out the word like a song. The Joxter sat back, denying him any contact. Goodness, but he did want to keep touching Snufkin. The Joxter’s teasing hadn’t been affecting  _ just _ him. A good sort of pain, the type that would be a pleasure to release inside of Snufkin’s body, had grown.

“Y-yes, dear?” The Joxter asked, not bothering to hide his own breathlessness. Snufkin’s face had a bright flush to it, all the way from ears to throat, and the hickies the Joxter had left were blooming nicely in the warmth. Muumint lay uprooted all around him, from where he’d been clenching and yanking in excitement. The smell of their crushed leaves was overpowering.

Snufkin spread his legs, wanton and trembling. He wanted this so badly, the Joxter ached just seeing the display. Snufkin was a mess, sweaty, twisted up in his own coat, opening himself so eagerly.

The Joxter wanted this to last just a little longer, so he could commit it to memory. A Snufkin undone was a rare treat, something to be savored.

“Pappa, please,” Snufkin gasped, eyes wide and dark as night. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and the Joxter unconsciously mimicked the gesture.

“What do you want me to do to you, dearest?” The Joxter cooed, crawling closer so he loomed over Snufkin tauntingly. “Tell me.”

Snufkin blushed for a very different reason. He didn’t like oaths and bad words, but he wanted this, and it was okay to want this — the Joxter had pushed him to the brink and refused to pull him over that blessed edge.

“F-fuck me, Pappa,” Snufkin muttered. This was nothing like the last time. Snufkin felt entirely out of his own power. What a strange, scary experience, but exhilarating nonetheless. Everything was in the Joxter’s hands now.

The Joxter’s eyes lit up at the shy vulgarity coming out of Snufkin’s mouth. Hearing it from Snufkin almost made him come right then, before the fun could really start. The Joxter slipped a hand into his pants and clenched around the base. He ached so badly.

Instead of teasing Snufkin like he instinctively wanted to do, the Joxter freed himself and caught up Snufkin’s legs, under the knees. He was inside Snufkin before he thought to warn him or prepare him. Snufkin’s sharp cry stilled his actions.

He looked over Snufkin’s face, all twisted up. “S-sorry,” Snufkin said. “It caught me — oh, it caught me off guard. Please, please, Pappa.” He rolled his hips to meet the Joxter’s, all the permission needed for him to start up a pace full of neither teasing nor waiting. Soon Snufkin was gasping and moaning, more delightful than anything the Joxter could have imagined.

There was no grace, no dignity in what they were doing, rutting like animals in a bed of flowers that only excited them further the more got crumpled under their thrusting bodies.

Somehow, the Joxter wound up on his back with Snufkin straddling him. He pulled Snufkin close to kiss, hips pistoning upward as Snufkin rolled to meet his thrusts. Snufkin’s smaller paws rested on the Joxter’s jaw, petted his whiskers, and they swallowed down each other’s breath, tasted tobacco and burnt Muumint.

At the new angle, Snufkin hid his face against the Joxter’s scarf, muffling his cries and hiding his blush. It did feel so very good, especially in this position, but he couldn’t help the embarrassment of the noises being pulled from him.

The Joxter brushed his hair and kissed his forehead as he listened to those smothered noises squeaking out in time with his movements. While he wouldn’t say no to hearing Snufkin’s sounds of pleasure, he understood that Snufkins were reserved creatures by nature. He could live happily knowing he got one — his own Snufkin, especially— so riled that he had to  _ hide _ of all things.

They rolled again so the Joxter could thrust deeper and harder, and Snufkin clung to him like a lifeline. His words were no longer being spoken into the Joxter’s scarf, and every pappa sounded like a song just for the Joxter.

He pulled Snufkin’s hips tight to his own and swallowed down his final gasp as the Joxter came. A hand slipped between the two of them to tease an orgasm out of Snufkin, rubbing him to his own completion in time with the now lazy, relaxed thrusting of the Joxter.

“Ah, Pappa,” Snufkin sighed.

“Snufkin,” the Joxter purred, nuzzling his throat before getting comfy on top of him.

Snufkin lay there contemplating the sensation dripping out of him. “I’m glad I did it once, but I don’t think this is something I’ll repeat.”

The Joxter laughed and kissed his cheek.  “What a dreadfully Snufkin-ish conclusion.”

Snufkin hummed, having no problem being exactly what he was, especially now that the fire had passed. Much like a real flame, it had been scary, if captivating, and very, very warm. And likewise much like a real flame, one didn’t stick their hand in twice.

They cuddled together and petted each other, enjoying the weakening hold of the Muumint as the sun set.

The Joxter took Snufkin several more times, and Snufkin wasn’t expected to enjoy it (though he had, a little), and he wasn’t teased to the point of frustration again. It was simply how things were done between the two of them, then it was over.

Later, the Joxter followed Snufkin like a stray animal, first to the hot springs, then to his tent. He settled in like he’d always been there, and Snufkin recalled that he had mentioned he was nesting.

It took several days for him to build a proper nest that they both could disappear in. Some days it was nice, others it was claustrophobic, and on rare occasion, Snufkin would come into his tent and smell that distinctive scent of Muumint, much weaker than the field of it but still enough to catch his interest.

Those were days he couldn’t be found, and nobody thought to check the Joxter’s pile of blankets.


End file.
